


A TWRP Fic by Doctor Sung

by Bajillian



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Gen, it's not a fic by me unless Meouch gets a little grumpy, so meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 17:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18504010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bajillian/pseuds/Bajillian
Summary: Sung learns about fan fiction. He also learns that no one can write him properly, so he decides to write his own, more "accurate" story.





	A TWRP Fic by Doctor Sung

Sung had recently learned about fan fiction. Sure, he knew about fiction and non-fiction, but fan fiction? Let’s just say he did some research. He spent the night (or a few, who’s counting) reading stories that ranged from funny to angsty to… ones that made him a little uncomfortable, but they all had one thing in common.

None of the authors wrote him properly. 

He couldn’t blame them, he understood that it was difficult to really encapsulate his charming good looks and incredible wit, all in a single work. Or maybe, just maybe, they weren’t being written by the right person: Doctor Sung himself.

This was all the motivation Sung needed before he whipped out his trusty notebook and got to work. He spent the entire night in the kitchen, just writing away, and when the constant scribbling on the paper made it too confusing to follow his own plot, he switched to his laptop. He hadn’t realized that he had been working for 11 hours straight until Meouch walked into the room at a crisp 9 AM. Meouch didn’t really notice Sung, or more likely, didn’t care what he was up to, so Sung cleared his throat to attempt to get the cat man’s attention. 

Of course, this didn’t work, so Sung cleared his throat a little louder and threw a crumpled ball of paper at Meouch. This particular method did work.

“What the fuck--”

“Oh! Commander! I thought you’d never ask!” Sung said, clearly vibrating in his seat. “I’ve been doing some writing, and I need you to read it over.”

Meouch furrowed his brows and walked over to where Sung was sitting. “What, like, album writin’?” he asked. “Isn’t it a little early for that?”

Sung shook his head. “Not album writing, story writing!”

“You’re... writin’ a story? ‘Bout what?”

“The band!” Sung turned his laptop a little so Meouch could see his screen. There was a window open with lots of bullet points and notes among blocks of text, and a second window open with probably 20 tabs related to writing. “I was reading some fan fiction. Our fans are really creative, but the ‘Sung’ they write about is nothing like me.”

That earned a chuckle from Meouch. “Doc, they write you perfectly fine.”

“So I took it upon myself to show them how it’s done,” Sung continued, completely ignoring that Meouch had said anything. “Wanna read it?”

“Do I have a choice?” Meouch asked. “I can’t even make myself some breakfast without things bein’ thrown at me.”

“Cool, so the story starts here,” Sung said, pointing to the screen, “and ends a couple pages down.”

Meouch sighed and took hold of the mouse before he began reading out loud: _“The story begins with a woman trying to get her cat who’s stuck in a tree. She calls out for help from an attractive strong man, and luckily for her, Doctor Sung appears.”_ Meouch rolls his eyes, but continues. _“Along with him are his lesser attractive bandmates._ Are you callin’ me ugly?”

Sung raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t say you were ugly. Just… you know, not as hot as I am,” he explained. “But don’t feel bad, it’s hard to compare yourself to a perfect 10. Keep reading.”

Meouch made a disgusted face at that before he read some more. _“‘Oh! Are you the famous and talented Doctor Sung?’ the woman asked. ‘The one who everyone in the universe adores and wishes they could be? With the muscles upon muscles and chiseled abs?’”_ Meouch snorted. “Goin’ a little overboard there, bud. Where do I come in?”

“It’s not overboard, just keep reading.”

“Alright, alright. … _Doctor Sung flexed. ‘That is correct. I am also a hero. Allow me to demonstrate.’ With no effort at all, he climbed up the tree, picked up the cat, and gracefully slid back down the tree. ‘Here you go, Miss. Safe and sound.’_ How do ya gracefully slide down a tree?”

“I’m a graceful man, Commander.”

Meouch scoffed. “I’m sure our many incidents on stage would beg ta’differ, but sure.” Before Sung could respond, he continued. _“The woman hugged her precious little fluffball, and looked up at Doctor Sung with awe. ‘Thank you so much for rescuing my little Commander Meouch--_ Wait, her what?? I thought ya said I was standin’ with ya, y’know, the whole part about bein’ ugly or some shit?”

“Again, I didn’t say you were ugly,” Sung reasoned. “And I also didn’t specify what bandmates I was with. Aren’t you flattered I wrote you as a cute little kitten?”

“Not really, no.”

“Aw, c’mon. We haven’t even gotten to the good part where the woman and I get married, and we both work together to take care of you!”

Meouch threw his hands up. “Nope. No. Nuh uh, I’m done with this. I’m gonna write my _own_ story, and _I’m_ gonna be the main character, and _you’re_ just gonna be some traffic cone on the road.”

Sung was quiet, and for a moment, Meouch thought he might’ve hurt his feelings. “Commander, that’s… so cool!” he said. “Doctor Sung: professional musician by day, traffic cone ensuring everyone’s safety by night. I like it.”

“Wh… What? No, that’s… oh, fuck you,” Meouch grumbled, already making his way out of the room. “I’m goin’ back ta’bed.”

“Sleep tight!” Sung called. “Don’t get stuck in any dream trees!”


End file.
